entrancelogs | open » i've got an atlas in my hands

Entry tags:

open » i've got an atlas in my hands

Who: Peggy Carter + YOU
Where: Library, Rabbit Hole Diner, and other locations.
When: Early Feb
Rating: PG-13; will warn for changes in individual threads.
Summary: A catch-all for the first half of the month. There are some open prompts under the cut, but I'm also posting some closed starters in the comments. Hit me up if you'd like something other than the options below.
The Story:
[ DURING february's first few days, peggy pays a few productive visits to the »LIBRARY. she arrives armed with a scrap pressed into her palm. the paper is thin and torn, jagged, from a puzzle book -- folded in threes with precision and hard corners forced onto its asymmetrical shape. while she walks from stack to stack she traces the list's edge with the pad of her thumb. in reality, she doesn't need it. she'd long-since memorizes the book titles recommended to her in order to bring her loosely up to speed with popular science. so the list is a flimsy talisman, maybe, but during these visits it represents purpose. forward momentum.

her reading list is accumulated over multiple days, as though some reflexive defense mechanism convinces peggy to take her time. patience is rarely her strongest suit but she nevertheless makes an effort, knowing that a rush will only leave her rudderless and once again without distraction. to that end, she allows herself to wander off-path. maybe she's come for non-fiction, but she detours through a shelf of thrillers and mysteries and adventure stories.

she touches the spines as she passes them by -- her little list peeking between her knuckles like an ace at the ready. peggy never intends to appear lost but catch her at an odd moment and she might want some help. after all, stark never gave her author names to go with the titles.

LATER, with her coursework assembled, she goes elsewhere to conduct her reading. a great deal of it happens behind her bedroom door as she readjusts to a solitary life now that jane has returned to her husband. but some of it happens at the »DINER. with a whole booth claimed for herself, she sits with the dust jacket removed so bystanders can't easily discern what she's reading stephen hawking's a brief history of time, incidentally. it takes some two or three chapters to really dig into work she couldn't already recognize in passing -- and, on occasion, she offers up an audible scoff when she finds herself confronted with a colourful explanation of scientific discovery which nevertheless somehow manages to neglect howard stark's contribution.

she orders a plate of chips (hot; crispy; salted) and implores the wait-staff to keep them coming. instead of tea, she asks for a milkshake. not a quarter of an hour passes before she's cracked open a journal and uncapped a pen. her annotations are, for the time being, made in pitman shorthand -- and so appear as a series of near shapeless scribbles to those who aren't fluent. even so, there's no secrecy behind that choice. merely a swell of impatience after she'd worked so hard to contain it earlier.

and yet peggy's not averse to interruptions. not exactly. she may not be the most welcoming conversation partner, nor is she particularly fond of idle chatter, but she doesn't chase off interruptions or inquiries.

OTHERWISE, known associates and strangers alike are free to run into her »OUT & ABOUT. whether she's 'commuting' from quarters to library or grabbing a quick breakfast in the dining room early in the morning. she doesn't have a precise schedule (on most days) but she's not impossible to chance upon. she's nearly always immaculate -- from heel to hair-pins. having a project in hand puts her in a better mood. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Jane's not nervous, not really, but she does know after everything she'd said about Kurt - sometimes drunk, sometimes very, very sober - Peggy knows everything. Every way Jane felt, all the ways she hurt and felt betrayed. Maybe it doesn't make sense on paper that Jane is home, but this is her marriage, her entire life. Maybe it's understandable. Still, she needs a safe place outside of Kurt, and because she doesn't want to lose the friendship she's forged with Peggy, this seems like the best thing to do.

She's wearing her wedding ring again and sits comfortably, leaning back against the couch. ]

Go ahead. And don't pretend like you're going to go easy on me.

[ tea? tea! jane might have lived with here for a good few weeks, but peggy serves tea indiscriminate of another person's taste. for now she fusses with the kettle, glancing back over at jane. ]

It's steganography, isn't it? [ voila, curveball. ] The black square on your shoulder isn't really a black square at all. Not purely.

[ yes, she has questions about kurt and, yes, she'll be getting to them. but here's one that's been buzzing in the back of her head ever since she'd gotten a closer look at some of jane's tattoos by mere virtue of living in close quarters. she hadn't noticed anything about it on the first instance of seeing that particular example -- back at sarah and ray's engagement party. but, since then, she'd found her attention drawn again and again to the square of ink.

she asks now regardless of whether the skin arm is visible or not. ]

[ The question does surprise her, so much so that Jane lets out a short laugh. She looks down at her arm, shrugging off her zip-up hoodie to reveal short sleeves and the tattoo in question. ]

Yeah, it is. How did you know? An entire FBI lab didn't figure that out until someone just about as out of left field as you pointed it out.

[ A teenage girl nonetheless. Patterson's poor pride. ]

[ -- you know, the laughter puts her immediately at ease. somewhere beneath her ribs she'd half-suspected jane might take offense at such a nosy prod. and when she shows the shoulder in question, peggy offers a tight-lipped smile. ]

Before I signed on with the SSR, I -- [ her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. she trusts jane with all kinds of secrets, really, but that doesn't make them any easier to say. ] I used to solve a lot of puzzles.

[ it's not a lie so much as it is a quiet cover. plausible deniability. obvious enough for jane to figure out; oblique enough to let peggy plead innocent. ]

[ Both of Jane's eyebrows go up at that, slowly, but by know, she feels like she knows Peggy well enough. She doesn't ask a direct, probing follow up. Instead, she'll eventually pad anything she wants to ask within the conversation. It probably doesn't fool anyone, but at least it doesn't feel rudely invasive. ]

Every tattoo on my body is a puzzle. And now we know there's a second layer. I glow. So the tattoos you can see work with the tattoos you can't see unless you use a...I don't know what to call it other than a battery. You have to charge them up. But I do have tattoos on my face that you can see with a black light.

That's -- [ be cool, carter ] -- utterly fascinating.

[ and maybe there's nothing polite in the way she takes a few steps forward (briefly forgetting the kettle) and gives jane's revealed arms a rather careful once-over. it's a risky display of honesty, given what she knows about jane's past and all the terribly details that might lead her to have an unsettled relationship with the ink on her skin.

still. she can't quite help it. ]

Was it solved? The black square.

[ Jane nods, rubbing her arm a little. ]

Yeah, it was. It's not all black, some of it's off-black. So when you separate those pieces out and make them white, you peel off the mask. And the image wound up being the state rock of Michigan. In the shape of a specific county, with a number for a specific township. It led us to a wanted and very dangerous criminal. It's also covering a tattoo I had before the memory loss. My Navy SEAL tattoo.

[ The only person she's ever bothered to be this open with about her tattoos, other than Kurt or Patterson, has been Peggy. It feels easy, and the woman already knows so much about her, has literally seen her at her worst. No need to be coy about it now. ]

Edited 2018-02-01 22:11 (UTC)

Quite a lot of work goes into a 'puzzle' like that. [ it's an idle thought. peggy's memories are with fellow s.o.e. agents who used to knit steganography. her patterns were passably rendered but never quite good enough to match the women whose messages actually resulted in new patterns being banned for the war's duration.

she lets the kettle work, leaning against the wall. ]

Someone must have really wanted you to find that criminal. [ a low whistle. ] The dual purpose is a bit ingenious. Disguise an identifying feature with ink that's got dual purpose, [ not to mention the ones that apparently glow. ] Are they all like that?

Most of them, if not all of them. Some of them don't work until you get where another tattoo led you. Like the oil derricks on the back of my neck. When we went to the place the steganography led us, and to the coordinates, we didn't know what to do next. Kurt was standing behind me, looked up, and saw the exact order of the derricks in the skyline and it matched my tattoo. So that's where we went, and it was right.

[ She realizes what it sounds like now. ]

It's a scavenger hunt, sometimes.

[ there's a twitch in her hand -- a flicker of action, of impulse, of something. maybe it's just because she's been so long without good solid work. maybe it's because everything she's been trying to do to occupy her mind hasn't come near the odd thrill of solving things. hunting things. all of it.

peggy clears her throat. ]

Please tell me they've all been cataloged.

They have. I stood in a machine - completely naked - and let a computer scan me from head to toe. Here.

[ Patterson's cataloged them again, so she can keep puzzling them out in Wonderland for something to do, and Jane pulls out her device to show Peggy, opening the folder. She does hesitate for a second because, well, nude photos of Jane, but this is for Science. So, she hands it over. ]

See, the blacklight numbers? They're the CDC's logging system for infectious diseases.

[ you know, she's grown rather adept with these little devices. there's hardly a lost beat as she scrolls through -- her attention landing more on obvious patterns or visible puzzles than on any kind of 'shocking' nudity. it doesn't matter much to peggy: years dorming at an all girls' school followed by army life has as good as inoculated her against that awkwardness. context is king, after all. and as jane has already surmised: this is for science.

her attention only lifts again when jane mentions the cdc. it was only a fledgling department after the war and one she only brushed shoulders with (on occasion) when ssr business crossed paths with biological weaponry.

peggy doesn't scroll past the picture with the blacklit numbers. ]

Each one stands for a different strain? [ her tongue digs behind her teeth a moment -- thoughtful. ] Why these ones?

Because someone - my mother - planted a seed to the head of the CDC to release it. Cause a worldwide pandemic. Once she convinced them of that, the numbers were tattooed on my face to lead us there, to stop it. Because once that person was out, the person she wanted would be in.

[ And thus begins the explanation of why all of this. ]

Most of the tattoos led us to corruption in the government and when those people were out, new leaders were elected. People my mother specifically selected for a new government to take over when she...set off a nuclear bomb in DC.

[ Effectively wiping everyone out so she could start over. ]

Edited 2018-02-03 14:47 (UTC)

[ it rather does take some of her professional excitement over the puzzles and replaces it with professional horror. but once it was spelled out, peggy could equally see the quiet terrifying genius to the whole endeavor. it must have taken years of planning and bucket loads of cunning: a systematic and thorough refresh of people in positions of power.

not unlike (she thinks with a jolt) what hydra did. will do. ]

And in the meantime, I have no doubt it made solving the tattoos feel as though you were the ones tearing down that corruption. [ ... ] She counted on your team's better nature, didn't she?

[ it's chilling, really, how some villains could mobilize virtue to see their ends met. ]

She did. And Kurt was one of the biggest pieces of her puzzle. She knew that when he was young his best friend went missing when she was five. She knew I had a scar on my neck that matched one his friend had. My mother watched him, from college, put him through military school anonymously, kept him where she wanted him, guided his movements, until she erased my memory, put his name on my back, and sent me to him. She knew he'd be unable to resist thinking I was that missing girl, and without knowing it, I...believed it, too. She had a mole in the FBI, had blood samples switched. Everything was supposed to end with Kurt in charge.

[ All of that comes rushing out and it's a reminder that in all of this, Kurt's been manipulated, lied to, and before Jane was Jane, she was a part of that manipulation. ]

[ there are parts of this story that she knows courtesy of sarah -- less about jane's mother, however, and more about that missing girl. and about the impetus it had given kurt to play protector, at least according to sarah's telling.

peggy sets the tea down in front of jane. she takes a seat of her own, leaning forward so her elbows are on her knees. most importantly, here's a good segue to the real meat of the conversation: ]

How are things with Kurt?

They're...getting better. We've been through too much to just give up.

[ Jane looks down at her ring, running her thumb over it. ]

And part of it is because it's what my brother wants. He knew Kurt wouldn't want to hurt me, he knew it would tear us apart when he did. But he's not counting on us to be stronger than that.

[ it's a cold kind of comfort to hear jane explain the situation in such honest terms: getting better. it implies momentum, but also that there's still work to be done. she'd expect nothing less, given the complications that had cracked the pair apart. peggy would have been far more worried if the reconciliation had been swift and simple.

but then she goes on to explain more. none of it's new -- jane had warned peggy about her brother, before. she'd articulated concern over whether roman was merely manipulating her. all that's changed is jane's widened that sphere of manipulation to kurt as well, recognizing (admirably) how the man's better nature had been exploited.

-- not that it expunges the sin. far from it. but peggy nods. ]

And the two of you are stronger together. [ it's a terribly sentimental thought -- the kind peggy normally hesitates to voice -- but she can see it's true for jane and kurt. severing that connection had hollowed the woman out and peggy had watched that process, day after day, as jane was forced to question the pillar of support she once saw in her husband. it's not something she's ever had herself. not completely, at least. but it's rather humbling to recognize in someone else. ] Even if it takes a helluva lot of work to build up that strength once more.

[ -- if it might never get back to where it once was. ]

Edited 2018-02-04 15:33 (UTC)

Trust is hard to rebuild.

[ She can acknowledge that, and it's the hardest part of all this. But she isn't without her own moments of breaking Kurt's trust. She'd be a hypocrite to not acknowledge that. ]

Kurt and I have proven, over and over again that when we're torn apart, everything goes so wrong, and it feels like, if we both figure out how to be as strong together as possible, Roman will have to kill us to tear us apart. I need my marriage. I need Kurt. There hasn't been a time since I've met him that he hasn't made me a better person somehow.

[ it's worth a bit of awe, isn't it? two people so resistant to the violent forces of the world around them. peggy doesn't let herself think about it too long; she knows how heavily her own missed opportunities weigh on her heart. back home, her world succeeded in its tearing.

and here, in wonderland, those torn edges were never allowed to heal.

she crosses her feet at the ankles and leans back in her seat. ]

It's -- wonderful, albeit painful. I'm certain of it. And I'm glad the two of you are making a proper go at it. [ ... ] But I still don't like him.

[ she means kurt. peggy's met him all of once, in passing, before she hauled jane out of their room. all else she knows is hearsay and reports given from kurt's sister. objectively, she understands the man is likely one of the rare good ones. subjectively, however, she feels a visceral loyalty towards jane. one she's not ashamed of putting to words, trusting jane to know that in the end it doesn't matter whether peggy likes her husband or not.

all that matters is what jane feels about him. ]

[ The laugh that comes out of Jane is actually unexpected and she runs a hand through her hair, clearing her throat. ]

I know. You don't have to.

[ The small moment of levity passes, and Jane sinks a little bit further back into the couch. ]

The pain of Avery being gone...some days it's like everything hurts and I can't breathe, and then other times I'm numb. I don't feel anything at all. And when Kurt first told me, all I could see when I looked at him was what he did.

[ Swallowing heavily, she looks down, letting out a heavy breath. ]

But it isn't about Avery. Avery was an accident. And if I'm being honest with myself, Peggy, I've lied to Kurt more than once. I lied to Kurt and someone was killed. I'm not innocent. The only difference is that we weren't married and I thought he would never lie to me. I knew I wouldn't, I knew there'd never be anything between us again. I never thought it'd turn into roles reversed.

Your lack of innocence doesn't matter. [ peggy argues what she's argued countless times before now -- harking back to those moments while jane stayed with her when she was at her most filled with self-doubt. ] These aren't scales to be balanced, Jane. These are wounds to be healed. And if they are indeed healing, then I'm happy for you.

[ she stops short of saying i'm happy for both of you. ]

Of course, I'm also acutely aware of the irony involved in me giving anyone marital advice. [ a tight smile. ] Even if you're not.

[ aware, that is. ]

I know my wrong doesn't cancel his out. But we are healing. We're trying. I don't want to lose him, Peggy, I want us to figure ourselves out. Both of us.

[ She reaches over and squeezes Peggy's hand gently before letting out a breath. She's never pried into the other woman's life other than her blurted out realization about Rip. But that information has never gone anywhere else, not even to Kurt and it never will no matter how well thing work. It's not hers to share. ]

Kurt is...

[ Well, she reaches out to slide a picture on her device to his name prominently tattooed on her back. ]

He's the first person I met because it's the way my mother wanted it. And he was the first person who ever took care of me. He's always taken care of me. I know he always would, even if we weren't married.

[ it's...brave, really. for either of them to trust their happiness with someone whose path they were thrust into because of someone else's schemes and machinations. although peggy wonders whether trust remains too strong a word for it, given the pain and the structural damage the relationship has received. the first word remains the best word: healing.

her fingers lace briefly with jane's. and the corners of her mouth lift into a smile -- one that stays, half-cocked, even as she frees her hand to better look at a tattoo she's only glimpsed corners of under sleeveless shirts jane might have worn around the room. ]

It's a reliability that thrives beyond romance. [ and it might be the closest thing to a compliment she might ever pay to kurt weller for a long long time. ] I suppose we can't choose how we meet the important people in our lives. But we can, ideally, decide what to make of those meetings.

[ is her deep-set love for steve rogers at all diminished because he'd been something of a project to her, first? hardly. she'd known the man's personnel file long before she knew his eyes -- eyes that had stayed the same, she'd noted, before and after the serum.

peggy's chin dips. ]

You know, I'm not certain I'd handle it with half as much grace. [ she taps the device, inadvertently zooming in. ] Having some man's name tattooed on my skin. No matter how much I might care for him.

[ but she will (perhaps) name an agency in his honour. ]

I threw my wedding ring at his head. I'd hardly call that grace.

[ She smiles just a little, but she knows what Peggy means and her eyes stare at that tattoo, shaking her head slowly. ]

I knew him, before. I mean I don't really remember much, but I do remember watching him at a memorial service for Taylor. When I was Remi, I didn't care. He was the target. Our way in. But then everything was erased and suddenly he was my only connection to anything. It was so easy to believe I was Taylor. I wanted it to be true more than anything. To be someone Kurt needed. Someone who made him happy just because I was there. When we realized I wasn't her, when we worked through everything and I realized I still made him that happy, I knew I wanted to earn it. I wanted it to stop being about the tattoo and just about us.

[ But maybe, no matter how hard she tries, whether she runs or stays in place, she can never escape the past. So, she might as well stop running. ]

no subject

no subject

icon used only by virtue of it being the only one with said tat showing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject